Intel Lied to Me
by Bowties are Cool
Summary: Assassin AU: All my Intel said you're not meant to be back until next week and I'm sitting here using your flat as a sniper nest to kill a bad guy. This is awkward. In which Grantaire is an assassin and Enjolras is a beacon of righteous fury. One shot.


Assassin AU: All my Intel said you're not meant to be back until next week and I'm sitting here using your flat as a sniper nest to kill a bad guy. This is awkward.

Grantaire was not used to making mistakes. The dark haired assassin – known within intelligence communities across the world as 'R' – had a faultless record. He was world renowned in government circles for his discreet effectiveness and meticulous approach to the job.

Monsieur Thénardier was wanted by six government agencies within France alone for his unlawful activities. Finally, the highest bidder had approached Grantaire and offered a sizeable amount of cash for him to end Thénardier's unsavoury activities for good.

It had taken Grantaire a month to simply watch Thénardier, learning his routine and frequent haunts. At 3PM every day, the man returned home and so it was that at exactly 2:29PM Grantaire was set up in the neighbouring flat, a perfect view through the window across the street to Thénardier's hide out. The flat itself was owned by a student called Enjolras who, according to Intel, had booked a holiday and was currently half way through a two week trip to Italy with his parents and two sisters. By the time he returned, Grantaire would be long gone, seeking out a new contract and the student would continue on, none the wiser. The only trace of Grantaire's presence would be the memory of a rowdy neighbour.

At least, that was the plan until he heard the key turn in the lock and the door open heavily. A voice was shouting angrily into a phone, the door slamming shut with force.

"I don't care if you think I'm ruining your holiday!" the voice was livid and it was getting closer. There was _no way_ he was going to be able to salvage the situation.

"Well, maybe you should tell her to watch her attitude! You _saw_ the way she treated the staff – it was disgusting … No, I refuse to associate with someone who is so blatantly prejudiced towards people from other social standings … _I don't care if she's my mother, she's_ – " The voice rounded the corner and became a person. Grantaire cringed, feeling his face go red. "Let me call you back."

The owner of the flat – _Enjolras_ , he remembered – should really have had a picture in the file Intel had provided. _Why does he have to be cute?_ Grantaire thought, appraising his slightly rumpled from travelling appearance, his messy blonde hair and his striking blue eyes, currently widened in shock. He knew he should kill him. That's what any other assassin would do if they were caught on the job but _damn it_ , maybe he could break the rules just this once.

"Who are you and why are you storing weapons in my flat? You need to leave before I call the police." Despite the situation, Enjolras was remarkably calm, given that he'd just found his apartment being used as a sniper's nest in his absence.

Grantaire stepped away from his equipment and held up his hands in surrender, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. There was a gun strapped to his hip and a knife in his boot but Enjolras didn't know that.

"Well, this is awkward," he muttered.

Enjolras just raised an eyebrow and he could feel death in his unimpressed stare. It was a good thing Grantaire was the one trained to kill. Enjolras' eyes were lethal enough.

"I'm R," he said slowly, holding Enjolras' cold blue eyes with his. "I've been hired to kill your neighbour," he said, jerking his head towards Thénardier's flat. "You're not supposed to be home for another week."

"And you know this because …?"

"Intel," he said, shrugging.

"Your Intel needs to know that my mother is a dragon lady that I can't stand the sight of for more than two hours." Enjolras dumped his backpack on the floor. "What exactly do you want with Thénardier? The guy's a douche but that hardly seems enough to have him killed."

Grantaire frowned, lowering his hands. "You're taking this remarkably well."

"I haven't slept in thirty-six hours because of flight delays and multiple members of my family –some so distant, I didn't even know they existed – calling me and wanting to know why I was apparently rude to my mother. Enlighten me on Thénardier's transgressions."

"That's classified," Grantaire said, without even thinking. His watch read 2:42PM – Thénardier would be home soon. Suddenly, he frowned, thinking back on Enjolras' words. "What do you mean 'apparently rude'?"

Enjolras shrugged."Well, I mean, I _was_ rude, if you look at it from her perspective, but the point is, she was _ruder_ to the staff and I wasn't going to put up with it. The woman's a nightmare!"

Grantaire feels his lips quirk up into a smile. "Sounds like you're a beacon of righteous fury for the oppressed masses."

"I try," he said, slumping down on the sofa and putting his head in his hands, a need to sleep seeming to catch up with him all at once. He looked at Grantaire through his fingers. "Could you, like, not shoot my neighbour from my flat? I mean, I'm pretty sure that forensics would be able to figure out that he was shot from my balcony."

"This is government approved, there won't be an investigation or …" he paused as he looked at Enjolras, who was slumped in exhaustion. "What will you give me if I pack up my stuff?"

Truthfully, Enjolras wouldn't have to give him anything. He could simply raise an eyebrow, proclaim that it was his flat and Grantaire would acquiesce, leaving with his tail between his legs. However, something about the blonde man in front of him made him feel wild.

Blearily, Enjolras stood up. His phone rang at the same time and he checked the caller ID, made a noise of disgust and rejected it. Next, he made his way over to the kitchen and returned with a folded piece of paper. He handed it to him and made his way over to the sofa where he curled up. "You can leave now."

Grantaire did as he asked, packing up his equipment as quietly as he could. Through the balcony window, he could see that Thénardier had returned home but he promised himself that he would save that job for another day.

Only when he was outside, shutting Enjolras' door quietly did he unfold the piece of paper.

It was a phone number.

He smiled.


End file.
